1. As Cara Delevingne says, embrace your weirdness and let your flaws take shape.
  2. Dance in a pub till your muscles ache and get drunk. You got to get drunk at least once in your life, alright. Dance to the sick beats and feel your pulse following the rhythm.
  3. Visit the iconic beaches in Perth and feel your feet burning under the sand and your wild hair embody your uniqueness.
  4. Drive through the roads and lush forests of Montesano with your best friend.
  5. Say yes to those abandoned adventures and rule like a supremo.
  6. Pack your bags and go tour the world. See through other people’s daily life, culture and of course cuisine. Its as James Salter says “How can we imagine how our lives should be, without the illumination of the lives of others?” Remember that the world does not look the same from the tinted glass windows of your car. 
  7. Read Emily Dickinson and Neruda. They can save your life.
  8. Indulge in poetry, cinema and art. These can prove to be your life support.
  9. Work smart, not hard.
  10. Trust your intuition. Listen to your heart rather than your brain because know that your left lung is smaller than the right lung just to make room for your heart.

Picture : Pinterest

diary of a madman – II

​Now that he is gone,  you don’t look forward to the rays of warmth peeking from your window. You plan to put your phone on divert mode and pull the duvet over your head and get lost in the longing emptiness. But your limbs will you and you get up from your now ragged mattress and the ground beneath somehow supports you to the dining space. You are both angry and sad at yourself.

Was there anything less? Maybe he was tired of my whiny talks every night. What was it that made this happen?

Even as you mourn your loss, you are happy that he died before you did. You can still wake up knowing that he won’t be there beside you, curled up like a rose devoid of thorns. That you have to order for one every time you decide to have coffee. You are happy that he died before you because as you walk through the streets with your arms folded, you will be reminded of the walks every evening. He will be there to ensure that you don’t trip and fall.

Even though he is gone he will always be there to heal you. You will dig deep into those arguments and the moments and would want to know every fibre of what he meant.

Men are literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. Maybe I wasn’t perfect enough for him, then. Was there nothing that I could’ve done? Just to undo this? This pain hugging my chest?

As the hands of the clock tick by swiftly, he will heal you. He will make you remember what you meant to him and how much compatible you were with him. He will show you what you are still capable of. Still worthy of. 

Even though he is gone, he will see through you and nurture the hope. He will heal you and see to it whether you dare to dream again. Whether you would be willing to try and start afresh. With time he will teach how to how growing up means “turning your pain into a rose that is easy for someone to hold”. With time, he will teach how healing isn’t just reciprocation.

Picture © Agastopia

deep into the abyss

​I have been falling again and again. There seems to be no end to it. I am picking up my shit together and making an effort to rise. But that is when my legs let go, making me sink in the delirious clay. I have been looking at the past few years of my life and the only thing which comes to my mind is – What have I been doing all this time?

It was real tough for me to turn back the pages of the meaningless chapters. It was tough when I saw my own reflection in the mirror. But I couldn’t recognize the monster staring right through me. Her eyes piercing through my soul and looking beneath it.

What little I have learnt from the years that built me is that I don’t have the time to show people how I feel. Because for one moment if I let that dam open, then floods of terrible emotions would gush out. Rapidly. Damaging everything. Emotions which were savaged beyond recognition long ago.

Its like walking the road at midnight and all you see are pale contours. Your own footsteps echoing at a distance. Fading. All you hear is the hum of hellhounds. You are reminded of the beast within you every time you tumble. You are reminded of your own self. A rag doll which can be shown lilac skies, which is damaged and beyond repair.

But I will also cut the skin of anyone who tries to touch me, ever. I will suppress my urge to leave burnt marks on whomever I touch.

And that’s when you know. You succumb to your own grief. Yes, this is grief and I have vehemently surrendered to it.